


These are a few of my favourite things...

by oddegg



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-10
Updated: 2009-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddegg/pseuds/oddegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: 'Jim Kirk's twelve favorite sexual acts or positions, as described in illustrative drabbles'</p>
            </blockquote>





	These are a few of my favourite things...

**12.**

Hard and fast. Shoved up against the wall, face rammed into it, uniform pants jerked down and spit-slicked fingers, not slow, not slick enough, jammed into him. Not enough time before the blunt, splitting head of that cock pushes into him and pain wraps around pleasure and fills his head till he can’t even hear the needy words panted out onto his neck.

 

 

**11.**

The fact that he can’t see heightens everything. Every touch, every drag of skin, of lips.

The scarf presses against his eyes. Less is even more here, in this headspace – and he’s on the edge of orgasm even before the first finger enters him.

 

 

**10.**

Bolt upright, ass on his heels, hands digging into his own thighs. _Can’t touch, can’t touch – not until he says…_

Hand slicking slow – oh so much slower than he wants – over hard, slick flesh. Watching that languorous escalation of touch, hearing that hitch that he knows so well in another’s breathing. That final, almost vicious tightening of fingers. Seeing the spurt of white against that smooth, taut belly.

 

_‘You can touch yourself now…’_

He doesn’t _need _to.

 

 

**9.**

Oh god. Warm, soft wet all around him and just a hint, just a drag of teeth… Pressure of fingers hard against his hips, holding him down and he fists his hands in the sheets and gasps a half warning as a firm tongue is pressing just there, just right and he explodes up and out and down, down down…

 

 

**8.**

That one time, in the shower. Never got it again because, yeah – _unhygienic – _but, oh… those quick, spurting slashes of golden liquid against his groin. Stiffening him even more than he was already; panting – hot for it when that rough hand had wrapped around him.

 

_‘…god. This is fucking filthy…’_

Yes. Yes, yes, yessss…

 

 

**7.**

He can’t _breathe. _Head down, face down in the pillow, arms held away, clasped at his back and he’s gasping, _groping _for air – cock hard and pounding in his ass, hot full weight pressed close against his back. And this is… this is – hand comes up on the back of his head and pushes his mouth further into the cloth…

… this is, _yeeesss _– exactly what he needs.

 

 

**6.**

Holding back. All he has now is the one small thread of him that’s holding back. That can thrust into that soft, tight, ohsowelcoming space and somehow withdraw to thrust, slow and steady, back in again.

That part of him that can hold him up, shaky arms be damned, as he looks down into that open, blind, pleasure-wracked face and delves in again and again and again, till he feels that fluttering, that trembling all around him. Till he hears that soft, wrecked cry in his ear and feels that hot, wet splash against his belly and he can lose himself, loose himself inside there.

 

 

**5 &amp; 4.**

He can’t choose.

Getting – that, well… that firm, wet press against him. Damp and slight scratch of stubble against his inner thighs and the dirty, welcome intrusion into that private place until everything in him is trembling and singing with pleasure and he can’t help the squirming or the fact that he…

 

But giving… ah, Christ. He knows this shouldn’t be about him, should be about what he’s giving, not what he’s taking but pressing his tongue in there – hearing those sounds he’s wringing out and the taste – ohgod, that musky, dark, intense taste… and he half suffocates himself burrowing his face inwards and he knows he’s leaving bruises with his fingers so tight on those hips and he doesn’t care, doesn’t care…

 

 

**3.**

So dark in the room that it’s like sensory deprivation. Or would be, if he wasn’t wrapped so tight, so close in another’s arms. If he wasn’t sharing harsh, hot air with every breath; wasn’t licking sweat that he couldn’t swear was his own or another’s off his lips.

 

He can feel the cock hard and deep inside him, feel his own dick trapped and rubbing between them, but that’s the only difference here. They’re both as lost, as helpless in each other’s arms. Both wanting as much.

 

Both reaching that peak side by side.

 

 

**2.**

He could do this forever. _Would _do this forever if it wasn’t for the stupid ache in his jaw and the fact that – well, there’s a purpose to this act, and he’s damn good at it. But, man – that feeling. Like all his attention, all his nerve endings have concentrated down into his mouth, his tongue. Feeling that hard, firm flesh at the same time as he’s registering the soft, velvet sensation of skin riding over it.

 

Hearing those noises and knowing, when there’s that slight, infinitesimal stiffening before the first spurt that he’s the cause… Forcing his mouth down even further and feeling that first flood of liquid against the back of his throat is almost enough to bring him off in itself.

 

 

**1.**

It’s stupid, and it’s corny but he can’t help it and he doesn’t even care.

This. This right here: the slow, wet drag of his lips against another’s; the lazy tangle of tongues – half in, half out of their mouths; the tiny, harsh, shivery rasp of stubble and the quick, soft inhalations of air being shared between them.

The sweet rasp in that southern voice as Bones says, in a low mutter, _‘god-damn Jim…’_

This is his favourite thing in the whole universe. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was for an anonymous prompt on the st_xi_kink meme, which took over my life for a few weeks.


End file.
